Kindred Horizons: Interlude I - Darkness
by Rainsaber
Summary: One-shot set between Kindred Horizons & Small Beginnings. By order of Thorin, Bilbo searches the lower levels beneath the treasure hall for the Arkenstone. After a couple of hours, and some unfortunate circumstances, he finds himself lost in the royal crypt where no one can hear him. Friendship fic.


**Kindred Horizons: Interlude I – Darkness**

 **Summary:** One-shot set between Kindred Horizons  & Small Beginnings. By order of Thorin, Bilbo searches the lower levels beneath the treasure hall for the Arkenstone. After a couple of hours, and some unfortunate circumstances, he finds himself lost in the royal crypt where no one can hear him.

 **A/N:** The gold madness involved here is a direct inspiration from the last movie, BOFA. Someone suggested I write some more material for this universe, so I thought some short little interludes would be fun. This ended up being the longer of them.

 **Warnings:** Spooky ghosty crypt and some gold madness.

 **Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Don't make anything off it. All is property of the Tolkien estate. I'm just a serial borrower in my off-time for sanity and craft-perfecting reasons.

* * *

Search the crypt.

The crypt?

As in, the dark musty smelly place dead people are stored?

One condescending look from Thorin was all it took to send a growling hobbit on his way.

Curse this blasted mountain, that blasted dragon, and now Thorin's blasted absent senses, Bilbo thought to himself. He fumed as he stormed forward into the dark halls with a torch ahead of himself to light the way. He knew something was wrong, very very wrong, but why no one else could see it was beyond him! And the fact that the dwarf had the nerve, the gall, to just dismiss him like some blooming servant when the so called King Under the Mountain didn't even have a crown on his head yet-oh, Thorin Oakenshield was in for one rude awakening indeed.

"Arkenstone, Arkenstone, Arkenstone," Bilbo mocked to himself as he turned a corner. "Bloody stone, my big foot. I'll give you a bloody rock to think over, Thorin. No one east of Bree calls me Bulls-eye Baggins for nothing. Give me a decent sling and I'll knock some sense back into that royally empty cranium! Honestly-"

Bilbo gasped and whipped around, holding the torch high. He had heard a noise. Something faint, but like a voice.

"Hello?!" he called.

His own voice echoed back to him. But that was all. He could have sworn… but no. There was no one. No one this deep into the mountain surely. Why he even had to search down here was probably a ridiculous plot to keep him from nagging everyone else to death. Bilbo turned and continued on, plotting and cursing Thorin both out loud and in his head as he searched. All he could seem to find were more cobwebs, refuse, and rocks, but no precious jewels. And it was so dark! A stone that emitted its own light would surely be visible somehow in all this murky-

Bilbo whipped around again with his heart in his throat. There it was again! Closer. A little louder, but not necessarily clearer either. Instead of calling out this time, he listened. He listened for a long time, but didn't hear it again. The longer he stayed there, the more his nerves started getting the better of him.

"Fili, Kili," Bilbo called. "I'm warning you now if you two are playing one of your pranks I am in NO mood! You want to see what a hobbit's temper is really like, then keep on."

Bilbo turned his back one more time, but before he took one step he heard a rustle behind him. He stilled. It got louder. Closer. Until it was right behind him-looming over-deafening in his ear-

He ran. He didn't even look back at what was chasing him, because something was chasing after him! And then, his foot caught on a big crack in the floor and he fell forward. Pain exploded in his foot, his knees, his arms, and the bottom of his chin. The torch fell from his hand and tumbled away, snuffing the light out with it. There was a ringing in his ears and the blood rush of the excitement wasn't helping either. He groaned when he stopped seeing stars circling his vision and tried to gingerly take stock of himself. Twisted ankle. Possibly sprained toe. Bruised knees. Nerves knocked to senses in his hands. More than enough to be a simple annoyance.

"You fool of a Baggins and a Took," he chastised himself. "Your mind's playing tricks on you. There's nothing there. That's why it's a tomb! Oh, goodness…"

It took the hobbit a few more minutes to catch his breath and calm down.

"Oh, where's that bloody torch? Come on, now…"

Bilbo crawled forward on his hands and knees, sweeping his arms out in wide arcs to try and find his source of light. It hadn't occurred to him how he would light the thing if he managed to find it again, but that small task seemed a little less intimidating at present than trying to find his way back in the dark. His heart skipped a beat when his hand came across something, but as soon as he reaches forward to feel what it was he pulled his hand back with a hiss.

He cursed under his breath at the sharp pain. His hand was sticky and he knew the smell of blood, but he couldn't remember if he'd cut open his hand when he fell or on whatever he had just felt. Taking a chance, he reached out with his other hand and identified the mysterious object as a huge stone with rough edges, but not rough enough to cut.

"Can anyone hear me," he called. "Help! Balin! Fili! Kili!…Thorin!"

The silence that followed was deafening, and more than a little unsettling. What could he do? If he waited, there was a chance they would find him, though he had wandered a bit too far for comfort. If he tried to retrace his steps, he might get more lost and guarantee that he would never be found again. That was the problem with being a hobbit, he mused. Hobbits could chose to hide and appear when they wished, but under circumstances of their control, among the woods and fields that were their natural allies. Stone was nothing of the kind to them.

Rustling. "Hobbit…"

Bilbo stilled.

Louder rustling. "Hobbit…"

Gooseflesh crept up his back. But Bilbo clenched his eyes shut and covered his ears with his hands. "No one's there. No one's there. You're imagining things!"

The shuffling sound again. This time he whimpered as he drew Sting, holding it out in front of him as he opened his eyes and turned. There was no blue glow. No shadowy outlines of walls or ground. The darkness was everywhere. Thick. Unyielding.

"Hobbit-"

He swiped and swung Sting, hitting nothing but air. The sounds continued, but he didn't stop trying to deter whatever was trying to get him. His slick grip from the blood made him lose track of Sting too. After that he scurried on all fours until he hit something else, curled into a ball and started screaming. "Please, help me! Anyone-please-please-gods, help me!"

* * *

"Baggins," Thorin shouted. The King Under the Mountain stormed down into the crypt that he had told the Halfling to search hours ago. He could hardly spare any of the others from their tasks. Thorin wanted to continue searching himself, but to take time away from the most obvious and time-consuming place to search to instead search for a lost Halfling angered him. Not that he trusted the hobbit not to miss something valuable, he reasoned with himself. So to search for the Arkenstone while searching for a lost member of his company-

A noise.

Soft.

Like a voice.

Mumbling something over and over and over.

Thorin approached in silence, and mostly to his own ire and a small amount of relief, found Bilbo Baggins huddled into a ball against the far wall of an empty storage room. He already had a well-planned insult on his tongue, but when he caught sight of the poor state his friend was in, his head cleared. "What happened," Thorin said softly. "Bilbo, let me see-"

"Fool of a Baggins-Fool of a Took," he kept muttering.

No matter what Thorin said to try and rouse the hobbit, Bilbo wasn't listening. It took a good hard shake for the hobbit to snap out of it. He gasped and looked around wildly, squinting his eyes against the light. "Thorin? Thorin, is that you?"

"Yes, Halfling. Tell me what happened," he sighed, examining the bloody cut on his right palm. "How did you cut your hand?"

"I… I… I saw…"

"What did you see," Thorin asked, his chest tightening and his grip on Bilbo's shirtsleeve gripping tighter. "The Arkenstone?"

"I couldn't. I couldn't see anything."

"You just said you saw something! Was it the Arkenstone?"

"Arken… No. Nothing. Nothing like that. Just rubble and dust."

Thorin sighed and gritted his teeth together in disappointment.

"Thorin," Bilbo pleaded. "It's so dark down here. Can we just-"

"You didn't see it? You searched _all over_?"

Bilbo swallowed a noise in his throat and nodded. "Please, just… can we go? Please can we go, please?"

The sight of water in the hobbit's eyes pulled Thorin back from the brink of giving in to his anger, yet again. Thorin looked down at the small creature he had called his friend in a cave when they were all on the other side of Mirkwood. It seemed so long ago, when in reality it had only been a matter of weeks. It certainly hadn't been the last time he had called Bilbo such, but a disturbing thought entered his mind, then. When was the last time he had considered Bilbo such? Considered his well being? Gave a thought to his safety? He looked down at his bruised and bloody friend and felt his heart clench in on itself in guilt.

"Of course," he whispered. Thorin gently pulled Bilbo to his chest and the hobbit couldn't help but cling to him and bury his face in Thorin's coat. Thorin wrapped an arm around the shaking hobbit's back and rubbed up and down as had been done to him by his mother when he was once young and frightened. "Forgive me, my friend. It's all right. We shall leave this place and you shall never see it again. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I need air," Bilbo rasped. "Please. Air. And light-please."

"Come on, then." With one arm. Thorin hoisted Bilbo on his hip like he did to Fili and Kili when they were dwarflings. He slowed when he discovered Bilbo's twisted ankle, but kept a steady pace, climbing a back passageway he knew lead to the upper terraces that overlooked the outskirts of Mirkwood. The sun was just beginning to set when they both reached the crisp open air of fall. In better light, Thorin could better see Bilbo's injuries and set him down as gently as he could, leaning him up against a pillar as he checked and prepared to wrap the swollen ankle.

"It's cold," Bilbo whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself.

Thorin looked up and saw Bilbo with his eyes shut and shaking. "Only a little, Master Baggins. Surely you Shirefolk know the chill of the coming winter?"

"Too cold. Too dark."

"It's not dark here. Open your eyes."

Bilbo tried. It took him a few minutes to adjust, but when he did he focused on Thorin alone, studying him like a cornered animal would, knowing it was about to be killed. Thorin reached for Bilbo's chin and the hobbit flinched away. Thorin however didn't retreat and tried again, slowly. He took a gentle hold of Bilbo's chin and tilted it upwards to inspect the bloody underside. It would need some of Oin's balm soon to prevent infection. Bilbo relaxed a little, but still had the haunted look of a frightened child.

The king rested both hands on both of the hobbit's shoulders and waited until Bilbo could look him in the eyes. "There is nothing to fear of the dark, Bilbo Baggins. Not when you have a friend by your side to see you through to the other end."

It seemed to comfort Bilbo somewhat. He reached up and placed both of his hands on Thorin's arms. "Promise?"

The king frowned, feeling more important things pull at his mind, but pushed them away for the meantime just for one last reassurance. "If I can."


End file.
